The next day Patrick and I summited Baden-Powell around 10am, "complication" aside
and we parted ways. Elwood, it was nice to meet you! I continued on to Mt. Burnham, then Throop (by 11am) and then hit Mt. Hawkins, Middle Hawkins, and South Hawkins (by 1245). Here I took a 15 minute lunch and started the cross-country section of my hike. On the ridge between S. Hawkins and Rattlesnake the weather took a turn for the worse, clouds and fog rolled in and I lost my visual reference of Rattlesnake Peak. I consulted my map and saw that by staying on the eastern-most side of the ridge it would take me to my next destination. I followed the ridge for quite some time and when i arrived at what I thought was Rattlesnake's summit I found no registry and no familiar land-marks. Another look at the map revealed I had, in fact, taken a different ridge... my original assumption about staying on the east-most ridge turned out to be a mistake! Ouch! I looked back up from where I came and realized the weather and altitude gain would be too much for me at that point. I decided to descend further, into Devil's Gulch which would eventually empty into the East Fork on the San Gabriel River (territory I am very familiar with). I scrambled down the ridge and started making my way through the dense foliage and creek bed towards the San Gabriel River. The going was extremely slow. Everything was overgrown, dead trees and giant boulder cascades made for a wet and rather painful descent. By nightfall I still had not reached the end. I refilled my water supply and pressed on. By 7pm I was puzzled to find the water was flowing TOWARDS me not with me. I made a wrong turn somewhere. Tired, hungry, and a little nervous I decided it was time to hunker down for the night. Daylight would reveal the terrain and sort things out. The weather report called for rain so I found a spot on the shoulder of the gulch and checked to make sure none of San Gabriel's famously loose rock was above me. I found a dense bush and crawled inside. My shoes were soaked from the creek so I took them off and rung out my socks. I wrapped my feet with my extra jacket and slid my feet into my backpack and zipped them in. I donned my down jacket and weatherproof shell and thus began a miserable night. It was cold, flurries of snow would fall mixed with cold rain. I struggled to keep my feet warm. On top of that I was having muscle spasms every time I would straighten my legs. I slept a bit but was awake most of the night. When dawn arrived I packed up my belongings and headed out (630ish). I backtracked a couple hundred yards to the main gulch and resumed my descent. A few hours later the San Gabriel River came into view and I got excited. Low and behold, not a quarter of a mile away from the end the gulch cliffed out in a 40-50 foot drop. The walls were smooth granite and it was obvious I wasn't going to be able to pass. I back tracked and found a rock wall that looked semi-climbable and decided it was my best bet. A few minutes later I had gained the ridge and was confronted with almost a thousand feet of dense manzanita mingled with buckthorn (that stuff was nasty!). I pressed on, fighting the brush and feeling more and more tired. Halfway up the ridge I heard a faint sound... it got louder and louder until the whooping of helicopter blades revealed an L.A. County Sherrif's Helo searching the East Fork canyon... and Iron Mountain?! My first thought was, "oh shit." My parents must have freaked out. I tried to signal them with my light, then my white map but to no avail. They were searching the gullies on Iron for some reason. They zoomed by several more times throughout the day but each time there was no response. I gained the top of the ridge and realized I was just west of the bridge to nowhere. I descended the other side of the ridge to Rattlesnake Canyon. It was worst than before, the path was littered with dead and down trees and patches of densely overgrown thorn-bushes. I crawled and clawed my way down the canyon, slipping multiple times on slippery tree trunks (landed on my head once 
until I emerged to find myself right by the San Gabriel River. I hauled ass on the bridge trail until i came to Heaton Flats parking lot. From across the way I saw a Sheriff... then a group of people milling about, and then a shout as my Dad came running to greet me. The next few minutes were spent explaining the past 24 hours to the sheriff and then a quick checkup by the medics on scene. It was embarrassing. Thanks to all the people involved in my non-rescue. Looking back I think there were several things I should have done differently.
Parents: Maybe I shouldn't tell them the next time i go hiking
. I had told my parents on multiple occasions to always wait at least 24hours before getting worried. They jumped the gun a little but I can't blame them as this is the first time I've missed my pickup time. I think carrying one of those spot gps locators would have been great since I would have been able to send out an "ok" message the minute I was running late. Routefinding: I'm still torn about the decision I made. I think with the condition of my body and the weather, I was spending the night out there either way. A GPS would have given me great accuracy and would have probably avoided the whole situation, a map and compass was useless with the weather being what it was. No way to orient myself. So up/down either way I think it turned into an overnighter when I read my map wrong. I'm curious to hear what you guys think/would have done.
Flamethrower: to clear a path so there's no need to bush-whack
Pics: http://s300.photobucket.com/albums/nn30 ... er%20Road/
